Get A Clue
by unkeptsecret
Summary: People can be so dense sometimes. Especially Sousuke. And sometimes Kaname. Melissa has her moments, too. Okay, really, the whole cast of FMP needs to pick up the hint. A collection of stories for our clueless characters. May they learn to take a hint!
1. Melissa's Awakening

A/N: I am making a little warren for my many FMP plot bunnies to live. Enjoy!

More self-centered drivel about goals and intentions at unkeptsecret (dot) insanejournal (dot) com (slash) 3739

* * *

The mission was going exactly as Melissa Mao had expected, which is to say it was absolutely shitty.

Tessa had conceded back on the TDD-1 that it would be 'difficult to obtain the objective', but as she and Kurz ducked into the seedy motel, Melissa felt about ready to hand her young captain the Understatement of the Year Award. Melissa planned to make it herself using nothing but superglue, the bad intel reports that had gotten them into this mess, the bullet casings from the endless rounds fired at them, and her busted laptop, which she had to lug around with her instead of ditching because she couldn't be sure the self-destruct data wipe had actually gone through.

"Aw, man. I just upgraded the processor, too," Melissa muttered to herself as she hustled after her partner up the rusting staircase.

"You bitching again?" Kurz Weber asked over his shoulder.

"Fuck off," she said.

Kurz paused on the top step to let Melissa pass. She side-stepped the puddle of piss on the landing and tried to ram the bent key into the door lock. The twisted bit of metal that they had collected from the greasy maggot of a man working the front desk was so warped that she needed both hands just to get it into the chamber. Melissa shrugged off her duffel bag. The nylon strap caught in the bend of her elbow. Kurz reached over and took it from her with out a word, just like she wanted him to do. Unburdened, she could use her body weight to force the cheap deadbolt to spring. It took longer than it should have, and the landing offered no cover. Melissa could feel Kurz tensing up behind her as she worked.

It was stupid to be so exposed. It was stupid to stop moving. Shit-house motels in unstable nations make lousy safe houses. The entire situation made Melissa's skin crawl, but she and Kurz were out of options.

The mismatched door hinges whined like a sick dog when Melissa finally got the stupid thing to open. The smell hit her right away. She went into the rank darkness first with Kurz following so close behind that he probably beat her shadow across the threshold.

Once inside, he used his boot to knock the door closed behind them. Kurz dropped their bags and drew his Browning BDA in a flurry of silent motion, pushing past her to do a sweep of the room. Melissa ducked down to her duffel and made quick work of reloading her spent weapons. The crummy neon light leaking through the dirty window meant they didn't have to find the switch for the bare overhead bulb that hung on a wire from the water-stained ceiling. Melissa would bet a pack of cigarettes that the filament on the damn thing was blown anyway.

Her hands remembered the right sequence to change her guns' clips even if her sleep-deprived brain couldn't. Messing with her laptop would have to wait. They had been on the move for 48 hours straight while trying to evade a clever enemy, and the strain was showing on both of them.

Kurz finished his sweep with the bathroom. Melissa heard the metallic click as Kurz switched on his weapon's safety and the squeak of the water faucet. He returned to her side still shaking his canteen to dissolve their last chlorine tablet in the tap water. Even after purification, Melissa suspected drinking it would give her the runs for days. The room reeked of raw sewage.

Kurz held out the canteen to her, and she fished out what was left of her last MRE for him from her bag. They made the trade in exhausted silence. It was depressing that they had been down to their last emergency rations together so often that the exchange was a give-in. When there wasn't enough left to bother with sharing, Melissa would rather have the water and Kurz preferred eating.

Kurz plopped down next to her on the floor by the door and tore into his processed meal. Melissa gave him a quick once-over with her eyes to check for injuries while she sipped from the canteen. Kurz liked to play the tough guy when it came to taking a hit. He was favoring his right shoulder, but that was old news. She had already bandaged it up as best she could. Thankfully, Kurz didn't look wounded otherwise, just dirty and tired. His prized yellow hair fell around his drawn face in greasy strings. Melissa wondered if she looked equally as unwashed and beaten down.

"Don't eat so fast. You'll just puke it up again," she said. Too much adrenaline in your system for too long sometimes did that to people. You go on nothing but nerves for a couple days and as soon as you put food in your stomach, boom. Pukesville.

"I'm fine, Sis," he got out between mouthfuls. "By the way, don't touch the bed. It'll give you herpes,"

"How about the bathroom?" Melissa asked.

"Superherpes," Kurz confirmed.

Melissa banged her the back of her head against the wall. "Fuck."

From her position sitting cross-legged on the floor, Melissa spotted rat turds populating the corners of the room and cockroaches scurrying in the shadowed places. She could see a corner of the disheveled bed, which summed up all of the furniture in the room, and the jizz-stained coverlet looked exactly like a broiling hot zone for infectious diseases. She wished that they could have found a better place to crash, but it would be lie to say that this cheap motel room was the worst place that she had ever spent the night during a bad mission. Even so, Melissa would never, never be tired enough to put her face down on any surface in that putrid room.

She gulped down the last of the water and reached out to tap Kurz's knee. Like their ration exchange, Kurz had memorized this part of their 'desperate times, desperate measures' ritual too. He repositioned to align his back flush against the wall and stretched out his legs, which had been tucked up to his chest as a make-shift table for his half-portion of MRE. Melissa dropped sideways down onto the floor with her head cushioned in the bend of his hip. She tucked her hands into the open collar of her jacket to keep all of her exposed skin away from the revolting floor.

Kurz usually had a dirty quip for her at that point._ I love it when you use me for my body _or something along those lines. The fact that he didn't say anything made her feel better about their decision to take a rest.

"Just so we're clear," she yawned. "We're doing a straight-up three/three/flee. I'll see what I can do about the laptop during my watch. I'm hoping we can leave it here. We should be able to ditch everything else to pick up speed."

"You got it, babe. You sleep, I sleep, and then we both run like hell for Pick-up Point Shit-If-I-Know," Kurz grumbled.

"Point G," Melissa prompted.

"Yeah, yeah. G as in 'Gee, let's hope this one works because points A through F almost got us blown up'," Kurz sighed.

Melissa closed her eyes, too tired to say anything else. Kurz's khaki pants smelled strongly of days-old sweat and diesel smoke. He stank, but it was a familiar stink. It sure beat the open toilet aroma of the room. His hand felt warm resting on her shoulder.

Melissa let go and disappeared under the black waters of sleep.

She came back into consciousness, all at once, sometime later. It could have been five minutes or a few hours. Her internal clock was shot to hell because of her jacked up sleep cycles, so she couldn't even guess at how long she had been down. All she knew was that when she opened her eyes, she was still lying along the wall with her head on Kurz's leg and his hand on her shoulder. The room still reeked. The neon sign outside still hummed. The cockroaches still scurried.

But something _had_ to have changed. Melissa knew that there was no way that her body would go two full days without sleep and then pop up in under three hours for no reason. She stayed awake for a few minutes trying to place what had reached her through the velvet curtain of deep sleep but gave up when she realized that she could be resting instead. When you only have three hours, it pays to make it all count. Besides, Kurz would let her know if anything was wrong.

Melissa had let her eyes drift closed again when she heard Kurz begin to speak in a voice that was less than a whisper, like he was doing little more than mouthing the words. Melissa strained to catch all of what he said.

"Ok, here's the deal. Someone just pushed something under the door, so there's a decent chance Sis and I are totally busted here. I need to check it out before I wake her up, but there's some things I should say before the firefight gets going again. First of all, I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. I wasn't on my game, and I made a couple of the guys hurt a lot because I was too scared to risk a clean head shot. I went for the chest, and they suffered more because of that. That's not right."

Kurz paused. Melissa heard his breath move in and out slowly before he continued.

"I'm sorry about taking down that kid. We were running while firing, and I got careless. I never should have tried a trick shot like that with a handgun in a public place. That poor bastard had nothing to do with any of this, but he's dead just the same. I really do feel like shit about it."

Kurz paused again. Melissa half-wished that he was done because she knew that she shouldn't be listening to any of this. The Kurz Weber she loved to hate would never talk this openly about regret-- not with her, not with Sousuke, not with anyone. Hearing to his confession felt like a betrayal of trust. She should be asleep, not eavesdropping. She should be telling him she was awake.

His hand tightened ever so slightly on Melissa's shoulder. She felt frozen in place by his words and his touch. She tried not to listen but heard every word just the same.

"If the bad guys have caught up to us, then I know that I'm going make a lot more mistakes before it's over and done. I stopped being able to see straight about two hours ago, so my aim isn't worth shit right now. But please understand that I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure that she doesn't die in a place like this."

Melissa felt her heart start to rush. She fought to keep her breathing low and even to sustain the illusion of sleep.

"I'd get it if it's my time to go and all that jazz," Kurz went on. "I'd understand. But don't come for her just yet. Not here. Please. Amen."

Under her head, Kurz's leg muscles tensed and shifted. He was leaning over to pick up something by the door. With her eyes closed, Melissa heard the swish of paper on cracked linoleum followed by a crinkle when his hand closed on it.

The moment stretched into thin, cold nothingness. Melissa found it hard to keep still.

Suddenly, Kurz's mouth smashed against her upturned cheek.

"Ugh!" she cried out instinctively and bolted up to a sitting position to break away from his drooling mockery of a kiss. "What the hell was that for?"

Kurz grinned at her. "What? I thought the only way to wake up a sleeping princess was with a kiss."

"You're so gross," she complained. Melissa narrowed her eyes at Kurz, who was still sporting a shit-eating grin, and used her sleeve to mop up the trail of slobber he had left on her skin. She tried to act grumpy, like he had just startled her out of a good dream. "What's with the paper?"

Kurz held up the four-color flyer in his hand. "You want to order some take-out? It looks almost edible."

"I hate it when they come by to put that crap under the door. It always freaks me out," Melissa said.

Kurz shrugged. "People gotta make money somehow. By the way, you look awful. I guess three hours isn't enough to qualify as beauty sleep."

"Check a mirror yourself, Greasy McGee." Melissa stretched, yawned, and put her back to the wall. As soon as she could get her legs out in front of her, Kurz had his head pillowed on her thigh.

"Make sure I'm down for a full three hours, mmkay?" Kurz mumbled as his eyes fluttered closed. "I need to complete a whole sleep cycle or I'll be worthless to you."

"Too late for that," Melissa said, unable to resist an opening that easy.

"Bitch," he murmured.

Before she could stop them, the fingertips of her right hand were tracing the rolling line of his peaceful face and dropping down to that striking jaw. They followed the fluttering pulse of his jugular down to broad shoulders before settling over his arm.

"Hmmm, feels nice." Kurz smiled as sleep took him.

Melissa knew that she needed to get started on the laptop, but it could wait for another minute. She wanted to stare at her friend and partner, his features slack yet still undeniably handsome even in sleep, and wonder, _Could it be...? _


	2. Kaname's Notebook

A/N: In the words of a lazy boy with pineapple hair, this piece was troublesome. It's by no means up to my usual standards, but at least it's out of my head now. *grumble, stupid ideas that refuse to leave off, grumble*

* * *

It didn't make sense, and briefly, Kaname wanted to throw her notebook out of the window, preferably at Sousuke's apartment. If he had a window open, maybe it would hit him. That would be fun. Kaname loved the gob-smacked face he made when she whacked him with the nearest handy, blunt item. Shoes were a particular favorite.

The trick about thinking on Sousuke's hilarious expressions diverted Kaname's attention from her desecrated notebook long enough for the rational part of her brain to get two, non-hysterical breaths in and out of her system.

She calmed down, slightly. She started to think it through.

The final exams started tomorrow, and thanks in part to her unusually high number of absences (caused in no small part by her delicate connections with secret paramilitary organizations and cryptic spring wells of dangerous information), Kaname needed to do some actual studying to keep her class rank intact.

She had steeled her nerves for an intensive night of cramming. Told everyone not to bother her. Bought her favorite snacks and sodas. Hauled home all the necessary books and notes. Organized everything just the way she liked it on her kitchen table. Took a deep breath and opened the top notebook...only to discover several pages of critical notes were gone.

Kaname flipped through the entire thing twice. Then she scoured her other notebooks, checking and double-checking, but the pages were simply not there. Five days' worth of invaluable information had somehow escaped from their saddle-stitched home and disappeared in the night.

There was only one logical explanation.

Kaname banged her head against the table a few times out of sheer frustration, grumbled something about military freaks, and reached for her cell phone.

He picked up after the first ring. "Kaname, is anything wrong? Are you being attacked?"

Kaname kept her voice smooth as ice. "Sousuke, do you remember how I lent you my notes on Classical Japanese?"

"Yes. Your willingness to provide aid has lead to dramatic improvements in my marks for that course," Sousuke rattled off.

Kaname eased out of her chair and paced over to the set of large windows that faced Sousuke's apartment building. She pushed back the curtain and peered into the darkness. From across the distance, she thought she could pick out the edge of Sousuke's shadow through the lit windows of his austere home.

"Did anything unusual happen to my notebook while you had it?" Kaname asked, trying to sound off-hand.

Sousuke paused.

"Well?" she prompted coolly.

"Can you clarify what you mean by 'unusual'?"

"Oh, I don't know. Something like cutting out five days' worth of notes with a combat knife," Kaname ground out. "Do you remember anything like that, Sergeant Sagara?"

"I may have...removed...a few sheets," Sousuke confessed.

"You WHAT?!"

The cell phone's plastic casing crunched as Kaname's fist clamped down on it.

"Kaname, there is no reason to be upset--" Sousuke began.

"WHO'S UPSET?" she exploded.

"You sound upset," Sousuke replied uncertainly.

"Oh, you have no idea," Kaname threatened. She marched to her front door and traded out her house shoes for street ones. "Stay where you are. I'll be right over to show you just what upset sounds like."

"That won't be necessary," Sousuke gulped.

"I'm sorry. Did you say something? It sounded like you didn't want me to come over," Kaname menaced.

"I don't--I mean--I do," Sousuke wavered.

"Don't move. I'll be there in a minute." Kaname clicked off her cell before slamming the door behind her and stomping down the hall towards the stairs.

She rounded the corner and nearly smacked into someone.

"Watch where you're going!" she snapped automatically.

"I'm sorry," replied a familiar voice.

Kaname looked up just in time to see Sousuke bow politely, just like she had been teaching him to do. He held out a square of folded paper to her with both hands.

"I apologize. I remembered that I had kept some of your notes and was headed to your location to return them in time for your study session when you called," he blurt out with his head still lowered. "I should not have kept them so long."

It was hard to stay angry when he was so sincere. Kaname reached out and accepted the offering. The tips of her fingers skimmed his, and Kaname felt the outer edge of her cheeks ignite with a fiery blush.

"There's such a thing as a copy machine," she scolded. "It's not nice to take other people's things without asking."

"I am sorry," Sousuke repeated. "It won't happen again."

"And this better be all of them," she went on.

"It is," he added quickly.

"You know, I should probably ask why you decided to steal my stuff, but you'd probably give me some weirdo, gun-freak answer that wouldn't make sense to a normal human being anyway," Kaname sighed.

"Again, I apologize."

"Yeah, whatever."

Sousuke straightened and raised those steel-grey eyes to meet hers. He had a way of looking at her with all of his undivided attention that made her regularly-patterned brain functions glitch. Even though he was just being a good soldier, wholly focused on his target, Kaname felt too hot, too unsteady, in the unwavering intensity of his gaze.

"I should get back to studying," she found herself saying, although the prospect of throwing him against the building's outer wall and kissing him until his eyes popped out suddenly seemed like a much, much more appealing option than her books.

Sousuke nodded. "Please don't hesitate to contact me if you encounter any problems."

He hadn't gone more than two steps when he turned back to her and added in a voice far softer than the one he used with everyone else, "Please ignore the...", and then trailed off.

"Wait, what?" Kaname asked when it became clear that Sousuke wasn't going to finish his sentence.

He stared at her for a long moment, his face turning an uncomfortable shade of grey. Abruptly, his jaw snapped closed. He made a crisp about-face and marched back the way he had come. "Never mind. I hope your studying is productive."

Kaname shook her head and slipped back into her apartment. "Yep, totally a freak."

It took a solid hour of dedicated data-cramming to wipe away the last of her unconscious smile.

Sometime close to midnight, Kaname made an alarming discovery. She had just glanced over the first page of the small bundle of returned notes when she caught a glimpse of something unusual. Her own meticulous writing filled the regular lines of the notepaper, but dense, masculine writing that looked exactly like Sousuke's impossible scrawl marred the margins.

On the first sheet, he had written: "Dear Kaname" followed by a bunch of characters that she couldn't make out because they were obscured by scratch marks.

On the second: "I'm not supposed to write to you, but I want you to know that...." followed by "I don't trust him", and "Why now?". The rest was illegible.

On the third was a single phrase in all capital letter. "DAMN IT."

The fourth was a blank.

He must have figured out what he wanted to say in that interim because the borders of fifth and final sheet were nearly filled with his tight, abrupt handwriting.

_Kaname, _

_I have never disobeyed an order before, but you should know. You won't see me again. _

_I don't want to leave. _

_I don't trust my replacement to protect you. They have the reports. I don't know what they are thinking. I don't understand why would they leave someone as important as you in that care of that cretin. _

_I wish you could tell me what I'm supposed to do. _

_Damn it. _

_If I am never able to contact you again, please know that I will never forget you. _

_Please be safe. _

Kaname read it twice--once fast to catch the meaning and once slowly to savor the words. When she was done, she put her head down in her arms on the table and let her dark hair blot out the light while she thought.

She should have known from the dates recorded on her missing notes. She should have remembered which notebook she had found on the floor in his emptied flat on that awful day when he disappeared from her life.

Kaname had heard the story from Kurz about how badly Sousuke had reacted when Mithril pulled him out of Tokyo. She had witnessed how he nearly went AWOL in Hong Kong. She knew that he had made Tessa cry, but Kaname had only let herself half-believe that she had anything to do with Sousuke's uncharacteristic behavior. When he came back to Tokyo, he had acted just the same toward her. Nothing had changed.

But he had written to her, even if the good soldier in him couldn't leave behind the evidence of his insubordination. He had tried to find the right words to say good-bye to her.

_I will never forget you. _

Kaname reached for her cell phone, and as usual, he picked up right away.

"Kaname? Do you need my assistance? Have you been kidnapped?"

Kaname groaned. Why did he make it so hard?

"I'm fine, you idiot," she said tiredly. She wandered over to her window. "I just think that studying all night is kind of lonely. And since we have the same tests tomorrow, I thought that maybe we could study together. You know, to keep each other awake and stuff."

When she pushed back the curtains this time, she saw his silhouette clearly from the other side of the street. He was standing near the window, facing her. From across the darkness, she could feel his gaze lock on her.

"I would like that," he said evenly. "Should I come over to you?"

"Yeah," she said with growing smile. "See you soon."


	3. Tessa's Brilliant Plan

Kurz Weber rocked back in his chair. His blue eyes twinkled manically.

"So that's it?" he asked.

"That's it," Tessa confirmed. She smiled sweetly while Kurz made an elaborate show of contemplation. Of course, he would agree. Tessa could see it already. Kurz never could suppress his triumphant grin. This was too easy.

"And if I do it, you'll authorize the tweaks to my AS? All of them?" Kurz pressed.

"I always honor my word, Mr. Weber," Tessa promised.

Kurz's expression darkened. "But what's your plan for XO Hardass?"

"Commander Mardukas will be on leave until the week after next. Please trust that I have thought through the details. Everything is ready," Tessa explained.

Kurz tipped his head back and laughed in relief. Golden hair tumbled. Perfect, white teeth gleamed. A carefree smile anointed a tanned, fine-featured face.

Tessa smirked into her tea cup. Kurz Weber really was the ideal choice.

"Okay, beautiful. It's a deal," he agreed.

"Thank you," Tessa said meaningfully.

She extended her hand across the expansive desk. Kurz's large hand closed around hers, but instead giving her the expected handshake, he raised it to his lips and smacked a kiss onto her knuckles.

Tessa gasped and blushed.

"You'd better get used to it if we're going to pull this off," Kurz chided as he released her. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm due for combat training with Sergeant Major Babe. Getting my ass kicked has never sounded so good."

"Don't forget! Tomorrow in the galley!" Tessa called after Kurz as he sauntered away.

He offered her a flirty wink at the door. "See you there, cutie."

Tessa sighed happily. Oh yes, Kurz Weber was an excellent choice.

* * *

Tessa normally took her meals alone in the Captain's quarters, so she could keep working while she ate. On the rare occasion that she dined in the galley, she could only make it to common eating area near the end of the scheduled mealtime, and by then, almost everyone else had already polished off their dinners and left. It was a strange, new challenge to maneuver her tray of meatloaf and instant mashed potatoes through a noisy mess hall crammed with her soldiers.

The tip of her toe caught on a seam in the flooring, and Tessa stumbled. Someone's hand jolted out to steady her elbow before she dropped her tray.

"Easy there, Madame Captain," said one of the systems engineers.

Tessa looked him in the eye. "Thank you. I really appreciate your help."

The engineer turned a perplexing shade of red. "You-- you're welcome," he stammered.

Tessa smiled briefly at him before turning away.

"Way to g--g--go, Don Juan," she heard someone say as she left.

"Shut up," the engineer groaned.

From the far corner of the room, Kurz raised his hand to flag her down. As per the plan, he had saved the seat next to him. She nodded to acknowledge him, and he beamed at her. Even though Melissa often complained that her squad's resident sniper was an unrepentant lech and a finicky slacker, Kurz Weber _really_ put the "pretty boy" in "pretty boy loser". Maybe that was why Melissa always sat directly across from him.

But all thoughts of fair-skinned, German cover models dropped out of Tessa's head when she claimed the empty seat beside Kurz and looked across the table into the flashing, grey eyes of Sousuke Sagara.

"Hello, Madame Captain," Sousuke said.

Tessa's heart did a roundhouse, double back flip, full-layout combo.

"Hi," Tessa breathed.

Kurz nudged her under the table. "Hey, you didn't have to come see me. I know how much work you have, what with Mardukas off-ship and all."

Melissa Mao pulled a face. "She's not here to see you. She's here to see all of --"

"I needed a break," Tessa interrupted. She turned toward Kurz and looked up at him through her eyelashes. "How was your day?"

"Pretty boring actually," Melissa said with a shrug. "We ran some of those new simulations, and then --"

"It's much better now that you're here," Kurz told Tessa. He shifted in his seat to lean closer to her. "How was yours? Not too stressful, I hope."

Tessa followed his lead. She allowed a shy flush to color her face as she smiled back. "Mine is better now, too."

Kurz let his voice drop, low and breathy. "You're so sweet that this is a real treat. I didn't think I could see you until late tonight."

"I couldn't wait that long," she murmured. She allowed her fingertips to smooth down the flipped up cuff of his sleeve. Kurz played along like a pro. He caught her hand and gave it a lingering squeeze. This time, Tessa's blush was all real. Kurz was really much too good at this. She made a mental note to increase Kurz's espionage skill score in her files.

Melissa's fork clattered on the tin dining tray. "What kind of sick joke is this?" she hissed.

Tessa snuck a glance at Sousuke. He was staring straight ahead, which meant directly at her or, rather, through her, while methodically consuming his meal.

Melissa Mao's gaze, however, sizzled with white-hot rage.

"Weber, get your hands off Tessa," she seethed in a low voice.

Kurz dropped Tessa's hand and looked down, as if suddenly embarrassed. "You're right, Sis. I'm sorry. I just get carried away around her."

Sousuke banged his fork and knife down on his tray. He stood up, and his posture was much too rigid for a casual meal among friends. "Please pardon me, Madame Captain. I have urgent matters that need my immediate attention," he rattled off.

Tessa blinked. She hadn't expected a reaction this strong from Sousuke. Perhaps this would be easier than she had thought...

"It's fine, Mister Sagara. I'm afraid that I must be going as well," Tessa said.

Kurz whined like a puppy when she pushed back from the table. "Do you have to go?"

"I'm sorry," Tessa told him gently. Sousuke was still watching, so she held her breath, ducked down, and delivered a chaste kiss to Kurz's right cheek.

Melissa made an awful, choking sound.

Sousuke's eyes went wide.

Tessa smirked inwardly until she looked around. The entire mess hall had gone dead silent. All eyes were trained on the raspberry lip gloss smear on Kurz Weber's face.

Tessa gulped, remembered the plan, pinned up a smile on her face, and left.

* * *

"That? Was awesome!" Kurz congratulated her when he snuck into Tessa's office later that evening. "I'm going to get jumped in the locker room, but did you see Mel's face? Priceless!"

"I think we can safely progress to phase two," Tessa said thoughtfully. "Will tomorrow work for you?"

Kurz blinked back from whatever place his gleeful mind had transported him. "Huh? Oh. Sure thing, princess. Tomorrow is fine by me."

* * *

The next day, Kurz walked Tessa from her office to her daily staff meeting on the opposite side of the sub. They held hands to whole way, right past the hanger where Melissa and Sousuke were re-calibrating the Arbalest.

Over dinner that night, Tessa noted that Sousuke hardly touched his food.

Kurz noted that Melissa clocked a 10K in 45 minutes on the treadmill.

They agreed to push up implementation of phase three.

* * *

"I'm beginning to think we got a little over-confident," Kurz droned as he plopped into the chair across from Tessa's desk.

It was late, and she was tired. Tessa frowned as she jotted her signature on her tablet computer and tapped the right key combination to send the report back to High Command.

"I think the plan is going just fine..." she started to reassure him, but when Tessa looked up from her computer, she gasped. Kurz had a purple-black, crescent-shaped bruise under his left eye to match the dark mark she had put just above his collar line with a hand-held vacuum the night before.

"What happened?" Tessa demanded. She yanked her first aid kit from the second drawer of her desk, fished out an instant ice pack, snapped it against the corner of her desk, and shoved it at Kurz.

Kurz accepted the now-freezing baggie and slapped it over his impressive shiner. His one visible eye drooped with misery. "What else? I got jumped in the locker room."

"By Sousuke?" Tessa asked, incredulous.

Kurz scoffed. "I'd be in a lot worse shape if that were the case." He winced as he shifted the ice pack. "It was the entire engineering team. Not a decent fighter in the whole lot, but there were at least seven of them versus little, old me. Good thing Mel's been giving me all that hand-to-hand training, right? I'll have to thank her when she starts talking to me again."

Tessa chewed on the tip of her braid. "Melissa is avoiding you?"

"Sousuke, too," Kurz sighed. "I think 'Operation: Mark of Love' may have taken things too far."

"Or not far enough," Tessa thought out loud. "Phase four. Tomorrow."

"Tessa, I don't know. Kissing you in front of--"

A hot bubble of anger welled up and popped inside of Tessa. "And which one of us is highly trained in strategic theory, Mr. Weber?"

Kurz sunk lower in his chair.

"Tessa," he said finally. "Have you ever thought about just telling Sousuke how you feel?"

"Do you want those adjustments on your AS or not?" she threatened.

Kurz pushed himself to his feet with a groan. "Have it your way, kid. I'll be by to walk you to your meeting at the usual time tomorrow."

"Have a good night," she called after him.

"Whatever," he replied.

* * *

The knock on her office door came just before the scheduled time, and Tessa nearly tripped over her computer's power cable in the scramble to answer it.

"Sorry. I was just--" Tessa got out before she froze.

Sousuke's grey eyes, not Kurz's baby blues, greeted her. They smoldered as he stared her down from the other side of her doorway. His voice was a growl. "Permission to speech freely, Madame Captain?"

Tessa's heart did a back handspring, Arabian double front.

"Certainly," her voice volunteered. Her body stepped back to allow him to enter her office. Her mind was of no use at all.

When the door closed, Sousuke turned to her. His eyes flashed. Her knees went wobbly.

"Tessa, there's something that I need to say," he said.

"Yes?" she answered weakly.

"I know that I don't have the right to interfere with your relationship with Kurz, but I can't stay silent any longer," he went on, his voice increasing passionate.

"Oh, Sousuke," Tessa exhaled. This was exactly the moment that she had dreamed of when she made her plan in the first place.

"Please, you have to end things with Kurz because it's not right...I can't...I don't want..." Sousuke stopped to take a breath. His licked his lips as he struggled to find the right words. Tessa nearly lunged for his mouth.

"I don't want to be the one to report you both to Commander Mardukas," Sousuke finished with a decisive nod.

"What?" Tessa exploded.

"You know as well as I do that the relationship between you and Kurz is highly inappropriate. The fact that you waited until the Commander was off-ship to go public with your affair confirms that are aware of the the indecency..."

"Indecency?" Tessa squawked.

"...it's the duty of a crew member to report potential hazards when they arise, and as Captain, you know as well as anyone the sacrifices that must be made for the protection of all. Your lovesickness is putting us all at risk. I have no choice but to report it." Sousuke's expression softened. "For what it's worth, I think that you make an agreeable couple."

Tessa's mouth steadfastly refused to work. It hung open as Sousuke reached out to touch her shoulder.

"I repeat that I am sorry, Tessa," he said softly.

When the door closed behind him, Tessa blinked for a few moments in shocked silence before her mind caught up. As soon as it did, she screamed in pure frustration.

"DAMN IT!"

* * *

It was tricky keeping up with Kurz's long strides, but Tessa was doing her best.

"Hurry. Chow time is almost up," he reminded her over his shoulder.

"I know!" Tessa snapped. "It's not my fault that the meeting ran over time."

They rounded a corner and the din of the mess hall greeted them. Tessa braced herself for the humiliation.

"Hey, Tess?" Kurz whispered to her just before they reached the door. "I think that you're a hell of a woman. I should have told you from the start that Sousuke's brain is too malformed to sense normal things like jealously. "

"Thank you. I know. You're pretty great, too," she whispered back. "I approved your AS adjustments this morning."

Kurz reached out to take her hand.

They turned into the galley.

"Leave off, will you! You can be such a nag!" Kurz said too loudly.

Several heads whipped around to look at them.

"I'm a nag?" Tessa said shrilly. She yanked her hand back from Kurz's grasp. "Why, you talentless, insensitive--"

"Oh, great. This again," Kurz griped.

"-- pretty-boy loser! I don't know what I see in you!" Tessa finished.

"Yeah? You're not so hot yourself," Kurz yelled back.

Tessa's slap echoed through the silent room. Kurz rubbed his cheek while Tessa wiped at her false tears.

"It's over, Kurz Weber!" she half-screamed, half-sobbed. "I never want to see you again."

"Tessa, I'm sorry," he started, but Tessa pushed passed him and out the door. His voice followed her down the hall. "Tessa! Come back! I didn't mean it! Tessa, PLEASE!"

"Let her go, Weber. You know it's for the best," Melissa's voice, soothing but firm, came soon after.

Tessa couldn't help but smile despite her disappointment. Kurz really was an amazing actor. She needed to remember to add that to his dossier...


	4. Shinji's and Kyoko's Crush

When Kaname grumbled about how she hated any hour before noon during homeroom, Kyoko had said that she disagreed. She liked mornings best of all. Shinji told her "good morning" every day after that, and he made a point to look at her and smile when he said it.

When the teacher told Shinji that he had no talent for Classic Japanese in front of the whole class, Kyoko came up to him at lunch to ask him for help on their math assignment. She could have asked Kaname, whose scores were top of the class, to tutor her, but then she wouldn't have an excuse to tell Shinji that he was good at school work, really.

After she dropped her beloved camera into a puddle on way to class, Shinji borrowed a small tub of uncooked rice from the cafeteria, dunked the sodden camera inside, and put it under the radiator. By the end of the classes, it worked again, and she had smiled for the first time all day.

After she heard him bemoan to Sousuke that he couldn't get the latest edition of his favorite AS magazine as soon as it came into stock because his cleaning duty always coincided with the release date and made him late, Kyoko used a fictitious hair appointment to get Kaname to let her trade duty days with him. He had beamed like a little kid when Kaname informed him of the switch.

He spent twenty minutes looking at the the photo that she had taken when the principal put it on the wall near the front office along with its gold ribbon and tiny plaque commemorating her achievement in the city-wide contest.

She spent twenty minutes trying to understand the differences between Arm Slave models M-6 and M-9 while standing over a dry, heavy stats book in the public library.

He wondered what she looked like with her hair down.

She wondered if he noticed her at all.

On Valentine's Day, Shinji found a little box of chocolates in his shoe locker with a love note from a freshman girl that he had known since junior high. She looked so cute when he confronted her about it, a robin-red blush perched high on her cheeks and her hands fluttering at her sides like sparrows, that Shinji told her that he accepted her affection and asked her to see a movie with him the next Sunday. He realized that they would never work mid-way through the film. She had told him that she liked war movies, but she buried her face into his arm during the battles and whimpered when someone died. He found it cute the first time, but the constant gasping and sleeve-tugging made it really hard to focus on the film. At the end of the date, he was so annoyed that he didn't even think about kissing her good-bye. He tried to find an excuse to break it off with her for a month. Eventually, he met her behind the gym and told her that he was sorry but he couldn't be her boyfriend. Watching her face crumble made him feel like the worst human alive.

On White Day, Ono-D presented Kyoko with a silver Bonta-kun charm on a braided chain and a stammering declaration of his "intense like" of her. She managed to get out something about valuing of his friendship, but before she could finish, his face lit up. "I knew you felt the same way about me," he had breathed as he touched two fingers to the inside of her wrist. By the end of lunch, everyone "knew" they were a couple, and Kyoko thought that it wasn't _so_ bad. It was kind of fun being someone's girlfriend. Ono-D could be a goof, but everyone liked him and he didn't have any major deformities or anything. He did, however, have eager hands, and she called it off after a month when he tried to reach under her skirt.

She used to stare out the window at the cafe were she worked, sigh, and wish that Shinji would stop by to brightened her day.

He used to count the scraps of paper money and coins in the little tin that he kept tucked in his underwear drawer and imagine the fine quality of the restaurant where he would take Kyoko on their first date.

On the first day of summer, she realized that it would be harder to find excuses to see him now that school was out.

On the first day of the new school term, he realized how thoroughly he had missed her through those hot summer months.

"She likes you, dummy," Kaname had told him.

"He's totally into you, I swear!" Kaname had told her.

On Saturday night, they watched the same kung-fu movie from their respective couches in their respective homes with matching bowls of popcorn and soda cans.

He kept waiting for the courage.

She kept waiting for him to get a clue.

* * *

_A/N: Just a little fic for a hot summer day to let you know that I'm still an FMP girl at heart__._


	5. Kurz's Kiss

Kurz Weber had tried everything to kiss Melissa Mao.

Of course, a kiss would be just the beginning of all the mouth-watering pleasures that a total bad-ass babe like his commander could offer, but Kurz needed to get that first contact to kick it all off.

He tried the sensitive guy act (and earned a groan of disgust). Next came flattery (black eye) followed by flowers and chocolates (slapped face and emptied wallet). He attempted to win her with an original love song (public humiliation) and, as a last resort, a no-holds-barred seduction scene (concussion, lacerations).

When he trained harder and fought smarter to impress her with his valor, Melissa wrote a formal letter of recommendation to help him earn a boost in pay. When he dogged her steps, opened doors for her, memorized all of her favorite things, and remembered her birthday to prove his sensitivity, she called him a stalker and ignored him for three whole weeks. In short, Kurz could get none of his usual charms to work on his gawk-worthy commander, so after many months of constant frustration and one particularly grueling day, he seized Melissa by the shoulders, shoved her against the lockers, and tried to take that long-awaited kiss from her by force.

In the heavy days after the incident, Kurz would tell himself that he only did it because he was out of his mind with fatigue, that he never would have hurt her if he had been thinking straight, but it sounded like a pathetic excuse, even to himself. The truth was that he couldn't explain why he had done it. It just happened.

They had returned to the TDD-1 after spending 24 demanding hours in the thick of a fire fight. All of the SRD members were delirious with exhaustion and drunk on the rush of hard-earned victory. The other guys left to round up some grub, but Melissa showered last because she was the only female on the squad and Kurz stuck around with her in locker room, keeping her company and telling bad jokes to burn through the last of their adrenaline. They were all alone when Kurz made his disastrous move.

Despite a bum shoulder from the day's fight, Melissa had the energy and the wits to knee him in the junk before his lips could make contact. Kurz dropped to the cold floor with colored shapes and strange lights dancing in his blurred vision. Through the distortion, he could make out the fury etched on Melissa's face as she stood over him.

"You...you..." she stuttered in pure and righteous rage.

Kurz tucked his tongue behind his teeth and waited for the crush of her boot in his face. Instead, he saw the back of her hand swipe at her eyes and come away wet. The starshine of his Melissa's tears hurt worse than the boot.

"You bastard," she got out and then fled.

They did an excellent job of avoiding each other after that, but the inevitable mission load brought them together again within the week. The power-trio of Mao, Weber, and Sagara typically blasted through any objection, no sweat, but this time, Kurz bumbled more shots than a rookie while Melissa's orders to the team were confusing and hesitant. Sousuke saved all of their asses with his usual unassuming talent. Minimum damage and mission accomplished, but Tessa had them all in her office for a well-deserved ass-chewing as soon as they got back to base.

Kurz tuned out Tessa'a shrill reprimands until she got around to the punishment phase of the proceedings.

"...and finally, Mr. Weber, you will be re-admitted to the course on protocols at Merida Island for two weeks and also will attend lessons with Ms. Mao," Tessa said. "I will expect to see measurable results and a good showing when we return to base for Mithril's annual Naval Ball. That is all. Dismissed."

Kurz blinked. Lessons with Mao? Showing?

He stole a glance at the object of his desires to look for answers, but Melissa's ashen face and sour expression stopped his questions cold. Whatever it was that Tessa had sentenced them to do had to be downright miserable. He had seen Mao laugh at some pretty insidious punishments (spending the night in a crowded brig with a lot of drunken sailors during a puke-inducing storm came to mind), but Melissa was miles away from laughter now. Or maybe she was just sickened by the thought of spending time with him.

As they shuffled out of Tessa's office, Kurz tried not too think about what couldn't be changed (or about how beautiful Melissa looked, especially when she wasn't trying).

The transport took them to the Merida Island base later that evening. Kurz caught four hours' rest on a hard bunk before reporting to Protocol Training before sun up. When he returned-- famished and fatigued-- to his bunk after ten hours of mind-numbing rote memorization of Mithril's weighty Rules and Guidelines Manual, he found an envelope on his pillow.

The plain note inside read:

_Stieren Studio_

_2000 hours_

_Wear leather-soled shoes_

Kurz heaved a sigh to the empty room.

Slip-resistent rubber soles were standard on all Mithril combat boots, so Kurz had to dig out his dress shoes from storage to come up with footwear with a leather sole. The high gloss finish looked downright stupid with his camouflage trousers and white t-shirt. Pressed, black slacks and a button-down shirt came off much better with those shoes. Kurz admired his handsome reflection in the bathroom mirror before leaving the barracks. Oh yeah, he looked good.

Finding the Stieren Studio took a bit of doing. It wasn't near the track or the weight room. He tried the pool and the baseball diamonds. Finally, Kurz found it tucked down a desolate hallway in the sprawling PT facility. The door was ajar, so Kurz went right in.

"Mister Weber, I dare say," someone drawled on a smoky exhale.

Kurz turned to flash his trademark smile at the speaker. "Yes, ma'am."

The painfully thin woman perched atop a high stool surveyed him with unforgiving, grey eyes. The two flat lines of her lips blotted cherry-red lipstick on an unfiltered cigarette. Kurz stood still and let her appraise him. There was nothing wrong with letting a classy lady take a good look at you, even if that lady had hit menopause before you were born.

The woman unfolded her skinny limbs and stepped down to the floor with a graceful fluttering of her multi-layered, floor-length skirt. "Do you know why you are here, Mister Weber?"

Kurz looked around the room. It was bare save for a set of speakers, a stereo set, and the stool. The floor was made of polished wood. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors encircled the walls. He had no idea what was in store for him, but he smiled all the same. "To do whatever you tell me to do?"

It worked. The woman smiled back and extended a bony hand to clasp his. "I'm Beverly. Charmed."

"Likewise," Kurz said.

"God damn it! Where the hell is this place?" Mao's voice broke in from the hallway.

Beverly let out a dramatic puff of cigarette smoke.

Kurz kept smiling for lack of anything else to do.

Mao burst through the door looking like she had crawled through a swamp, a rusty storm drain, and a poorly managed zoo on her way to the studio. A pair of strappy sandals dangled from one of her grubby shoulders.

"Lovely," Beverly sneered to herself.

Melissa plopped onto the floor to work off her muddy combat boots. "Sorry I'm late."

"Please consider bathing as a necessity prior to class," Beverly said.

Fire flashed in Melissa's eyes. "I'm not trying to be disrespectful, Mrs. Bryant. I would love a hot shower right about now, but the field officer training ends at 2800 on the far side of the island. I didn't have time to do anything but get here on the double."

Beverly ignored the comment while Kurz tried to remember why the name "Bryant" sounded so familiar. The swell of a Sinatra classic through the speaker system filled the room, and suddenly, it all made sense. Beverly Bryant was the etiquette-obsessed wife of General Bryant, whose indulgences of his wife's old-fashioned excesses were rich fodder for the Mithril gossip circuit. Old Lady B's protests staved off the the integration of female members on submarine crews for five years because sharing such close quarters was "unseemly". She tried to ban girly magazines from all bases. Most infamously, she lobbied successfully to keep Mithril's posh Navy Ball, even when it meant compromising end-of-year bonuses for midshipmen, and she taught ballroom dance classes expressly for that event. All officers were expected to be able to dance.

Mao finished switching out her boots for the sandals. She stood up and frowned at her feet. The shimmering metallic finish looked like an exotic tropical fish suffocating under the muddy, wet cuff of Melissa's combat trousers. She had talent; Kurz knew that better than anyone. She wasn't an officer, not yet, but she would be in short order. The dance lessons were a necessary punishment for her, but that wouldn't come as a comfort to Melissa. She would hate every second of them because Melissa sucked at girly things. She couldn't curl her hair, apply eyeliner, arrange flowers, or serve tea without spilling it. Dance lesson were her Waterloo.

While Kurz didn't consider learning to foxtrot a particularly unsavory task, his real punishment wasn't the dance lesson. It was taking dance lessons with one massively pissed off Melissa Mao, who already had him on the top if her shit list for past indiscretions.

Kurz's smile wavered.

"I can already see that I have my work cut out for me," Beverly announced.

Melissa ground her teeth to avoid saying something nasty.

Kurz kept on smiling despite the coming disaster.

By the fourth night of the lesson, Kurz decided that 'train wreck' was a better way to describe the situation than 'disaster'. He could see it coming, but nothing could be done to derail the carnage.

Beverly hated Melissa almost as much as Melissa hated her, but their hatred came from two very different places. Melissa hated Beverly because of what Beverley did, naming coming down on every little mistake, insulting Melissa under her breath, and generally going out of her way to make Melissa's time in the Sterien room as miserable as possible. She would declare that Melissa's posture was "akin to a galumping moose" and turn around after the next night to decry it as "stiff as a funeral procession". Melissa's feet were too "heavy" one minute, then "utterly lacking in confidence" in the next.

Melissa tried to improve to avoid the cutting insults, but she had no talent for dance. No rhythm, no coordination for the movement, and a nasty habit of back-leading the steps. Maybe with another teacher, Melissa might have figured it out, but Beverly's unending abuse kept her so tense that every night's lesson was more of a failure than the last.

Of course, Melissa hated Beverly. No one likes that kind of abuse. Melissa's anger was a natural reaction, but it took Kurz a few nights to realize Beverly's motivation for the vitriol. She hated Melissa on principle. Melissa was everything that Beverly had rallied against-- a female combatant on a submarine crew who belly-laughed and drank beer with the boys, who lived in dirty boots and laughed at fashion.

To make matters worse, Beverly adored Kurz. She lavished him as much unnecessary praise on him as she heaped unwarranted critiques on Melissa. Night after night, Kurz tried to remember the steps to the various dance forms while Melissa seethed in his arms. She didn't speak one word more than necessary to him, and her silence made their physical proximity unbearably awkward.

The smart thing to do would be to quit the dance classes altogether, but doing so meant defying Tessa's orders. Melissa was stuck with a woman who hated her, and Kurz was stuck between them.

The whole situation felt like watching two trains barreling down the same set of tracks toward each other, and the crash was inevitable. Kurz was almost relieved when it finally happened.

Beverly had been teaching them the waltz, but Melissa kept bungling the steps. Instead of "floating like two graceful butterflies" as Beverly kept insisting, Kurz and Melissa looked more like a pair of unfortunate antelope with their antlers interlocked, spinning out of control across the dance floor.

Kurz tried to lead a turn, but his foot landed squarely on Melissa's toes. He felt her bare toes squish under the ball of his foot.

"Ow!" she yelped. "Watch it, Weber!"

Beverly's chin shot up. "Mister Weber can hardly be blamed for your inadequacies, Miss Mao. It is not his fault that you are too stupid to remember the basics of such an easy dance. One-two-three. Is it that hard to count?"

"You total--" Melissa started.

"Please excuse yourself and take a moment to collect your wits before you cause further embarrassment. I would hate to have to repeat this class from the beginning," Beverly said.

Shaking with rage, Melissa turned on her glittering heel and took off from the room.

Beverly turned Kurz with a look of bemusement. "How dreadful that you are saddled with such an overly emotional commander. It's amazing that you had lived to tell the tale."

Kurz could have punched her. No one insulted his Melissa like that.

"I'll go get her," he said and fled the room before he do bodily harm to a woman old enough to be his grandmother.

Kurz searched over the better part of the PT building before realizing where she had gone. Melissa always went outside when she needed to think, which is why she got extra antsy on the sub. The metallic bits inside the emergency exit's crash bar had come loose on the inside, so Kurz had to shove to get the thing to open.

"Hey, Mao--" he started to yell, but she was right there at his feet, sitting on the fire escape with her legs dangling over the side. The words died in his mouth.

"Break's over, huh?" she tried to joke, but her voice had the thickness of tears. Kurz stared at the proud lines of Melissa's back as it heaved when she sniffed hard, tucked her strappy shoes under her, and stood up. She looked at him with a unfinished smile and the starshine of tears glazing her eyes.

"Do you need a sec?" he asked in a low voice.

Melissa shook her head and forced the smile harder. "I'm fine. I just... We had to run an all-night battle thing last night, and I didn't sleep. I let her get to me, that's all. It's no big deal."

"Melissa--" he started, but she thrust up a hand like a warning flag.

"I'm said I'm fine. Let's get this over with."

A malignant lump formed where Kurz's voice box should have been. If Melissa were a normal girl, he knew what to do to make her feel better. He would have had a joke ready, and while she was laughing, he would follow it up with a schmaltzy line about her beauty. He would touch her arm while he said it to make it sound totally sincere. Sell it. Make her believe. But Melissa wasn't some girl. No combination of words seemed like the right phrase to release her misery.

Kurz mutely held the door and followed her back inside. The tap of her high heels filled the dim corridor with useless noise.

In the dance studio, Beverly had that same waltz on repeat. She swayed on the top of her stool with the supple grace of a cobra.

"Once more," she hissed. "And do try this time, Miss Mao."

Impotent fury fused the length of Melissa's spine into a rod. Kurz felt the anger surging in her when he put his arm across the span of her shoulder blades. She didn't deserve this.

He collected her loose hand into his and held her fast.

"It's okay," he whispered.

Melissa met his gaze with a fresh batch of indignant rage flushing her cheeks. Now that he knew what took look for, Kurz saw a series of bruises from last night's fight trailing down her temple. Dark circles shadowed her eyelids. She looked exhausted and frustrated and so damn beautiful. The lump in Kurz's throat dropped into his chest and spread like a gasoline fire.

"It's okay," he said again.

His thumb traced over her knuckles. She exhaled and let him gather her into closed position.

The music began a new phrase, and Kurz started the dance. The steps were so simple, but for the first time, the movement felt easy. Melissa was a pliant partner in his arms, graceful and unresisting. For the first time, Kurz knew that he was leading. She moved when he moved, and that motion was effortless, like the flow of water. He wondered if her exhaustion had made the normal resistance too difficult or if she had finally forgiven him for that terrible mistake in the locker room. Her eyes had settled closed, trusting in him to guide her, and Kurz lost his breath because, in that moment, she was his.

In a distant part of his memory, Kurz knew that it was time for the under-arm turn, but he had forgotten the move. His left hand wobbled upwards on the wrong count while his right arm jerked Melissa forward, but the timing was all wrong. Instead of risking another foot-squishing incident, Kurz stopped, and like a true partner, Melissa stopped with him.

"I'm sorry," he started to say to her when Beverly's reprimand cut in.

"Hopeless," she decided. She stepped down from the stool in a sweep of gauzy fabrics. "Must I demonstrate it again, Miss Mao?"

"I didn't lead it right," Kurz said.

Beverly maintained her trajectory towards them. "Honestly, it is not difficult if you simply follow."

"But I didn't--" Kurz tried again.

"One. Two. Three. It's a simple dance," Beverly said slowing, as if speaking to a half-wit child.

"Stop! Please!" Kurz shouted. "Mel was doing fine. Fucking beautiful even. I screwed it up. Me."

Beverly recoiled and blinked. "Prove it."

"With pleasure," Kurz shot back.

Melissa frowned but said nothing when Kurz tugged her into closed position again.

"You've got this," he reassured her.

Melissa shook her head. "You're crazy."

Beverly restarted the music.

"Hey," Kurz said to make Melissa look at him. When he had her eyes, he smiled for her. "Fucking beautiful. Got it?"

"Whatever, Weber," she said, but she smiled all the same.

They danced the same pattern that Beverly had drilled into them for the whole song. Kurz remembered the turn, and Melissa could have been on ice for as easily as she moved in his arms. He didn't need to check the mirrors that lined the room to know that they had nailed it, but

when the music ended, Beverly began.

"Functional," she sniffed. "No art. No beauty. I knew it. A hopeless case. I honestly don't see the point in continuing."

"Then let's stop here," Kurz blurt out. "I mean, if there's no point then we shouldn't waste any more of your time. All you need to do is sign off on completion, and we can put this whole, um, experience behind us."

Beverly wavered on the stool. "I'm not sure that--"

Kurz turned on her and turned up the charm. "No, you're right. Only a fool would continue on such a hopeless cause, and you have never struck me as the foolish type."

"I should hope not," Beverly said.

"Great, then we'll stop here. You're been great, Bev. A real pleasure," Kurz lied as he took the older woman by the hand and planted a kiss on it. "I'll save a dance for you at the Ball."

"Of course," she said absently.

Kurz hovered over her shoulder until Beverly signed off on their completion forms and then escorted her to the door. The sound of her footsteps fading down the hall was far sweeter then the strands of any waltz.

He held up the signed papers triumphantly for Melissa. "Mission accomplished. Wanna get a drink?"

"Don't start in this again," Melissa groaned. "Thanks for getting that bitch off my case. I mean that. Thank you. But don't start this again."

Kurz frowned. "Start what again?"

"That annoying, bullshit act you do where you pull every stupid trick from every dumb romantic movie you ever saw to try to get into my pants. Just stop it."

Kurz caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked good. Well, he thought that he looked good, but if he wasn't Melissa's thing, then she was right. He should stop. Even ultra-attractive cover models end up looking like asses when they act like idiots.

He put a hand through his prized hair and took a breath.

"Okay," he said. "You win. No more charmingm desperate Kurz."

Melissa narrowed her eyes. "Seriously?"

"Yeah," Kurz sighed. "Seriously. But I can still think you're hot. You can't stop a guy's natural thought process."

"Don't you mean 'fucking beautiful'?" she laughed.

Kurz nodded solemnly. "Fucking beautiful."

She didn't reply. She simply walked right up to him, put a hand on his face, and kissed him.

Kurz could have choked on his own tongue in surprise.

* * *

Tessa beamed at them when they waltzed at the Naval Ball later that week, and while Kurz and Melissa weren't the most talented couple dancing on the floor, they managed to look good and even enjoy themselves a little. Kurz performed the role of the dutiful date for the whole evening. He held open doors, helped with chairs, offered his arm, and kept Melissa supplied with champagne, but he didn't try touch her more than necessary. He knew better that now, and his patience was rewarded at the end of the night when she pulled him down a quiet hall to make out with him like they were both going to die tomorrow.

That lesson had taken him so long to learn that Kurz Weber would never forget it. You didn't get to kiss Melissa Mao because you were charming or clever or romantic or brave. You couldn't kiss her for all the chocolate and wine and jewelry on the planet. The fact was that you didn't, couldn't, kiss Melissa Mao.

She kissed you.

* * *

_A/N: I couldn't resist a little Mao/Weber action for the holidays. Sorry it's on the late side, kids. _


	6. Sousuke's Mantra

"Yes, Mrs. Sato, and I am sorry for the trouble," Kaname said with a slight bow to her landlady. "I am back now."

The landlady crossed her arms over the topmost button of her pink housecoat. "There were policemen here. For days. Everyone thought you'd been killed. Very bad for the neighborhood."

"I am sorry," Kaname repeated.

"Everyone was talking about it. They knew it happened here. Who would want to live where girls disappear in the night? No one. That's who," Mrs. Sato said. Her thin voice rose with every word.

"May I have the spare key to my apartment now? Please, Mrs. Sato," Kaname asked for the fifth time. She offered another bow. Her hands were balling into fists at her sides which meant that she was getting frustrated. Sousuke caught himself taking a slight step backwards. Some part of his brain had learned to recognize some of Kaname's early warning signs.

He wanted to help her. If he pulled his weapon, he could demand the key. But Kaname had told him to stay quiet while she dealt with Mrs. Sato. Later, she might yell at him for NOT stepping in to help her. Kaname confused him like that. Even so, Sousuke decided to follow her initial order and stay silent. It was easier to keep his ever-present watch over Kaname if he stayed back.

He scanned the courtyard behind them and then the street. He listened. He kept his body light and balanced, ready to move in an instant to protect her because, after everything he had endured to get her back, Sousuke would never lose her again.

This time, he would keep her.

"You know that I had to go to the police station three times to give statements," Mrs. Sato went on, her reedy voice escalating to shrill. "Three times! And the police weren't-"

"Just give the girl a key, Ma!" a voice hollered from inside the apartment. "Quit being such a nag!"

Mrs. Sato hmphed and turned away from her doorway. Sousuke couldn't stop his eyes from searching the apartment's interior. Threadbare carpets. Tidy counters. No shimmer of gun metal. The only shadows were the ones he and Kaname cast down the hall.

Mrs. Sato trudged back to the door. A hole showed on the left toe of her slipper and a set of keys dangled from a crooked finger.

"I can't guarantee that everything is just how you left it," she grumbled. "You left the door wide open, after all. And who knows how many times the police searched it."

Kaname accepted the keys with both hands. "Thank you."

The door closed on her before her mouth had finished forming the last vowel. She let her breath out all at once, breathed in, looked to him, and smiled a small smile. Many things had changed, but Kaname still liked to get what she wanted.

The smile evaporated as she turned to make up way up to her apartment. Sousuke fell into step beside her. They opted for the stairs without exchanging words. It did not need further explanation. She was going home for the first time since she was taken. The bad days were over.

Sousuke felt something strange take seed in his senses as they climbed. Everything felt familiar and yet foreign, as if many decades had passed since she had caught him on her balcony with her panties or given him a haircut in her bathroom. There were the sounds from the street, each passing car whispering its coming and going like the muted rush of a wave. There was the hum of the street lamps with their harsh blues smeared with the acid yellows of the city lights keeping the black of night at arm's length. He had seen it before, and yet he did not find it comforting.

More sounds and sights came to them as the climbed. The voices of people in their homes, made wordless through the walls. The steady thunder of a passing jet and the dark shape of it moving across a darker sky. The silhouette of a street cat slinking toward the dumpster. The silent hand of a breeze brushing past the laundry lines. Every noise and every visual from cityscape surrounding them told him that they had returned to Japan. They had survived, they were together, and they were home. But nothing felt like it did before.

Sousuke blinked. It was a distraction to think this way. He could not open his mind to distractions. He needed to focus on her. Kaname was safe. He would keep her safe. Those two sentences followed each other in comforting circles, like a mantra. They were all the orders that he needed now.

They reached her floor and turned from the stairwell into the hallway. Sousuke did another visual sweep, found nothing suspicious, and then looked to Kaname. A frown traced new lines in her face, and when she looked back to him, the frown did not diminish. Sousuke did not know what she was thinking.

The key fit perfectly into the lock, and the door did not creak despite the months of disuse. It swung open into her apartment, and without warning, Kaname burst into tears beside him.

Sousuke's heart accelerated to a race. His mouth tried to form words. He never knew what to do with tears.

"Ah ... um..." he got out.

Kaname rubbed at her eyes with the backs of her hands. As swiftly as they had arrived, the tears stopped.

"I'm fine. It's fine," she said.

They cleaned the kitchen first. Everything from the fridge went into the trash, even the jar of pickles and bags of frozen vegetables. The opened boxes of cereal and other dry goods from the cabinet went, too.

When Kaname turned on the faucet to wash her hands, the water ran red with rust. She ran the washer empty to clear it before starting on her long-untouched laundry.

Sousuke vacuumed and dusted while she rearranged her things. The police had not been careful in their search. Her pictures had been taken down and removed from their frames. Her clothing rested in misshapen piles next to her wardrobe.

He kept her in his line of sight, always. It was easy. The apartment was small. In two hours, they had nothing left to clean. The last of laundry tumbled in the dryer.

Kaname flopped onto the couch with a sigh. Sousuke took his place beside her, and she turned those bright eyes of hers on his face.

"What do we do now?" she asked.

Sousuke thought for a second before answering. "We could watch a movie."

Kaname's frown was instant. "That's not what I meant. I mean, what do we do next? We're here. Again." She waved her hand to four corners of the room. "We're back. So what happens now?"

Sousuke opened his mouth to answer and found it empty.

He hadn't thought beyond this moment. He had only thought up to the point- this point- when he returned Kaname to her life. He planned everything to that objective. He never anticipated that Kaname would look to him for the afterwards and ask for their next move. Somehow, he had expected her to know.

What would happened next? What now?

His mouth closed suddenly as the full weight of her question to him sunk in. The edge of his tongue caught between teeth and started to bleed. Sousuke did not wince because his mind was occupied completely by the problem at hand.

The problem was that Sousuke did not know. He did not have a clue. Not one.

He looked at Kaname's expectant face and started to sweat.

"I...I...don't... do not..." he attempted.

Suddenly, Kaname's arms were around his neck and her voice, laughing, in his ears.

"Stand down, Sergeant," she said. "It's okay. This isn't a test."

"Okay," he said. When his arms crossed around her back, Sousuke found his heart beat slowing and his mind clearing. He leaned back into the couch, and Kaname's weight settled close against his side. Her face lingered at the bend of his neck.

"I don't know what comes next," Sousuke said aloud before he knew the words were coming.

Kaname raised a hand to rest across his chest, over his heart.

"I don't know either," she said softly. "I guess that we will just have to figure it out."

"Right," he said, although he did not feel half as certain as he made himself sound.

"So do you want to watch a movie?" she asked.

He nodded, but Kaname must not have seen because she stayed nestled in at his side for some time after that.

Beyond the window, the city make its noise and showed its colors.

They were safe. He would keep them safe.

Maybe that was all that he needed to know.

* * *

_Final A/N at unkeptsecret(dot)insanejournal(dom)com/12092_

_So long and thanks._


End file.
